The Gifted Sophomores

theGIFTED

SOPHOMORES

theGIFTED

SOPHOMORES

TERRI

BLACKSTOCK

Copyright 2002 by Terri Blackstock

Published by the W Publishing Group, Nashville, Tennessee, in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, Colorado, 80920.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any other means— electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Scripture quotations in this book are from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB) © 1960, 1977, 1995 by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations also from the Holy Bible, New International Version. NIV. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, organizations, or locales is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Blackstock, Terri, 1957–

The gifted sophomores / Terri Blackstock.

p. cm.

ISBN 0-8499-4342-6

I. College students—Fiction. 2. Earthquakes—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3552.I.34285 G55 2002

813'.54—dc21

2002069148

Printed in the United States of America

02 03 04 05 PHX 9 8 7 6 5 4

OTHER BOOKS BY TERRI BLACKSTOCK

Cape Refuge

Covenant Child

Evidence of Mercy

Justifiable Means

Ulterior Motives

Presumption of Guilt

Never Again Goodbye

When Dreams Cross

Blind Trust

Broken Wings

Private Justice

Shadow of Doubt

Word of Honor

Trial by Fire

Seaside

Emerald Windows

For Love of Money: Sweet Delights Anthology

Seasons under Heaven, written with Beverly LaHaye

Showers in Season, written with Beverly LaHaye

Times and Seasons, written with Beverly LaHaye

The Heart Reader

The Heart Reader of Franklin High

The Gifted

Web page: www.terriblackstock.com

This book is lovingly dedicated to the Nazarene.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER ONE

they’re going to throw us off the yearbook staff. You know that, don’t you?"

Tiffany Kramer pulled the photograph out of the developing tray and hung it on the drying line. The school’s makeshift darkroom had grown hot, but they couldn’t open the blackened window without further ruining the pictures.

Hey, my pictures weren’t as bad as yours. Josh Canfield adjusted his glasses on his nose. A piece of white medical tape held the corner together. It had come unwound, and Tiffany expected his glasses to fall apart at any second.

It’s Mo’s fault. She shot a look at the black linebacker, who stood against the wall, his arms crossed.

Disgust burned in his eyes. My fault? How do you figure that?

If you’d been there on the day that all the clubs were supposed to get their pictures made, we wouldn’t have this problem.

Right. The day of the big game against Central High, I’m supposed to ditch the team so I can take pictures for the yearbook. Tell that to the coach.

He stepped forward and snatched the picture of the chess club off the line. Well, there’s no use waiting for this one to dry. We might as well eighty-six it. It’s so blurry you can’t make out a single face. He walked down the line, snatching down the one of the band, the cheerleaders, the Fellowship of Christian Athletes.

Look at this mess. He tossed the photos into the garbage can as though they were slimy with decay. Why didn’t they get one of the seniors to take the pictures instead of you rookies? They should have known getting a sophomore who’d never held a camera in her hand and some nerd who didn’t know the shutter from the lens would be a disaster.

Hey, I resent that. Josh snatched his glasses off. "My pictures were the best ones on the church trip we took to Brazil last year, and you know it. In fact, you made me get doubles so you could have all my prints. Furthermore, you’re a stinking sophomore, too, and they let you take pictures all the time."

OK, so you’re a great photographer on mission trips. How do you explain this disaster?

Josh shoved his glasses back on and grabbed the pictures back out of the trash. I think there was something wrong with the film.

Had to be. Tiffany set her hands on her hips. There had to be something wrong with the film.

Face it, guys. You’re just not photographer material.

And who said we wanted to be? Tiffany examined the other pictures on the line. If truth were told, she’d die of embarrassment before letting the yearbook editor see the mess they’d made. But she wasn’t going to tell Mo that. "It wasn’t my idea to spend the whole day taking pictures of a bunch of clubs. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a shot where people aren’t crossing their eyes or sticking out their tongues? And, by the way, I didn’t think Josh’s pictures of the church trip were that hot. There wasn’t one of me in them."

Mo laughed. Just because you’re Miss Sophomore Class here doesn’t mean you have to be the star of the youth group.

I’m just saying that if they were all that great, they would have had some of everybody in them. He wouldn’t have left anybody out.

Josh looked stricken. I didn’t mean to leave you out. But it’s hard to hit a moving target, and you and your friends were avoiding me like I carried some disease.

Tiffany grunted. Can we just get on with this? We’ve got to decide which of these pictures we can use and which are going to have to be redone. I have cheerleading practice in fifteen minutes.

Mo started for the door. Just trash them all, and I’ll redo them. You talk to the principal and tell him we’re going to have to call another photo shoot day.

Oh, yeah, he’ll love that, Josh said. It already took up half a day last week. He’s not going to want to give us another day.

Tiffany sat down and grabbed her backpack, then jerked out a pair of tennis shoes. She never should have joined the yearbook staff. She had better things to do than sit around worrying about a bunch of blurry dorks. Well, what do you want to do? Get all the clubs to show up on Saturday? She pulled off her sandals. Most of them would rather serve detention. He’s just going to have to let us do it on a school day. Mo came back to the table and grabbed the pictures up, then dug out the ones he’d tossed into the trashcan. There’s no way around it. I’ll take the pictures in there and show him what crummy shots they are. He’ll have to see it.

What if he disagrees and makes us put these in the yearbook? Tiffany slipped her shoe on and tied it. He might do that, you know, just to save time.

I’ve got it. Josh did a little jump. Tiffany grimaced. He was always doing stuff like that. Somebody needed to tell him it made him look stupid. If the principal does that, we can make copies and post them on the bulletin boards in the halls. There’ll be such an outcry that he’ll have to comply just to keep the students from rioting.

Yeah, that’ll be the day, Mo muttered. When anybody in this school works up passion about anything—

Tiffany’s chair started to shake, and she looked over her shoulder to see if someone had sneaked up to annoy her. The water in the trays began to slosh, like something out of one of those freak movies. Tiffany came out of her chair as a picture fell off the wall and crashed. The photographs still hanging on the line started to sway. Earthquake! Tiffany grabbed Mo’s arm and the back of Josh’s shirt as the floor began to tremble beneath them.

Get in the doorway! Mo cried, but before they could do so, the ceiling began to crumble. Plaster fell all around them, and a sound like the rumble of a train assaulted them. One side of the floor caved in, and they went sliding toward the opening. Tiffany screamed.

The table! Josh cried. Get under the table! But it was too late. The walls of the building began to crumble, and Tiffany heard horror-movie sounds from the other rooms— bricks falling, mortar crashing. And screams . . .

The floor gave way beneath her feet, and suddenly she was falling. She grabbed for Mo, for Josh, for anything—but it was no use. They were falling too. Debris, ceiling tiles, and bricks piled on top of them.

Tiffany groped for something to stop her fall, but finally she hit the bottom. Jagged cement and glass rained down on her.

She could see that one wall still stood, and she inched toward it. Maybe it was a way out . . . if she could just crawl across